


thoughts of you consume

by shakespeareslark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Boy! Lyanna, Genderbent Lyanna, Lyan Stark - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23829085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespeareslark/pseuds/shakespeareslark
Summary: It has been seven days since the entire world collapsed and was reborn again, and yet somehow no-one else seems to have noticed. And all it took was one conversation with a boy who has doused Rhaegar's entire world with gasoline- all that is left to do is ignite the spark.
Relationships: Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Kudos: 11





	thoughts of you consume

**Author's Note:**

> Lyan Stark belongs to Kenz, to whom part of my heart will always belong.

It has been seven days since the entire world collapsed and was reborn again, and yet somehow no-one else seems to have noticed. All around Rhaegar, life has continued on as if there had been no interruption; the earth has continued spinning, the sun rises and falls according to its’ regular schedule, and the tides come and go as smoothly as ever. No-one around him seems to have the slightest inkling of the destruction that has occurred as one life sinks beneath the waves to be lost forever and another is born in its place. Perhaps all of this is too dramatic; nothing happened that night after all. He met someone, they talked and walked through the city together. He could have chosen any bar that night, sat down beside anyone and he would have struck up a conversation as he has a hundred times before. Hasn't he always been able to get on with strangers and come away with a new friend at the end of a night of drinking? There should be nothing different about that boy and that bar.

But there was.

Because his smile had felt like coming home at last and his fingers had fit through Rhaegar’s as if they were made to sit there. Because now he was sitting here staring at a phone number he’d copied down from the messy scrawl in permanent marker on his hand, with the feeling of throwing himself off a cliff into the wild waters below. The ink had faded a lot faster than his memory of the hand that had etched it. If he was to close his eyes, then he would be able to relive that moment in perfect clarity; the snowflakes that had brushed against their cheeks like gentle kisses, the callused touch of those fingers holding his wrist steady and the slow drag of the pen against his skin. That moment had seemed to last forever; just the two of them huddled close in the doorway- the dark head bent over his arm and warm breath on Rhaegar’s skin as he wrote, tongue caught between his teeth in thought, and Rhaegar had wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment that it had physically ached. He hadn’t; the boy hadn’t pushed it, hadn’t asked for one and it might seem innocent were it not for the smug grin that had played across his lips. He knew that sooner or later, the Targaryen would be begging for a kiss and was prepared to hold out until that point.

In the past week, he has revisited that moment over and over and how they’d parted ways when the boy- Lyan- was done. There is no point in pretending he doesn’t remember his name when he has been Rhaegar’s first and last thought each and every one of these past seven days. His name is Lyan Stark and in just one moment Lyan had managed to rip through his entire life and leave it in shreds behind him. Everything he has; his wife, their children, his name, titles, loyalty, friends; all of it has fallen away in the face of this boy who had smiled like he already knew he held Rhaegar’s heart in his hands. If there is such a thing as a god of fate then surely he must have been laughing the day that he’d sent them both to the bar that night because Lyan is a storm brewing on the outskirts of his life and all he can do is spread his arms wide, let it wash over him and soak him to the bone.

It is astonishing to find when he glances up at the clock that only a few minutes have passed since he sat down with his phone on the table in front of him. Elia is out shopping for new maternity clothes and surely it speaks volumes that he’d waited until she’d left the house before drawing out the number from his pocket. There is no point in pretending that there is anything innocent about this; Rhaegar knows that he is not interested in making friends with Lyan Stark. If he had any sense then he would tear the paper into pieces and try to forget that entire evening. But there is no hope of that; they have barely begun but already there is no hope that he can ever come back from this. His entire life is already drenched in gasoline, all it needs is a single spark. He takes his time dialling, checking each number against the paper as if he hadn’t already memorised it and his heart pounds against his chest with each ring. The breath catches in his throat as it abruptly breaks off and there it is, the voice he has been playing over and over his mind. 

“Hi.” Rhaegar says and the world catches fire.


End file.
